48. ISABELLA
forty-eight
I’m bouncing in my seat, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
Mateo is striking out players left and right, and it’s reminding me of that first game I attended, when I wore Anthony’s jersey.
It’s clear that he’s a man on a mission, and so far, the other team hasn’t been able to get a single hit or man on first base.
This is good.
This has the potential of being another shutout game.
And then the Monarchs would make history as the first team in MLB history to make it to the World Series in their first year as a team.
During the second inning, Charlie and I got up to get some snacks. Or at least that was my excuse, because I needed a moment to walk off my lingering nerves.
I haven’t seen him yet, but I know he’s here.
The monster from my past waiting for me around the corner.
I ran into Luisa, and she looked more stressed than usual. I know that this is a big game for her as well, since it’s her first season as the general manager, and I’m sure she feels like she has something to prove.
Nick spared us no mind as he stalked past us, speaking threateningly into his phone that seemed seconds away from snapping in his hold.
Luisa tracked him like a hawk, and I took pleasure in the slight distraction of the game happening below me.
We make it back to our seats by the third inning. The score is 2-0 in favor of the Monarchs.
Mateo spots me immediately as I take my seat, and the tension in his shoulders subsides slightly.
I lift the hot cocoa in my hand and give him another thumbs-up, letting him know I was on a snack run and that I’m doing okay.
His face remains unreadable for the camera, but I see the slight crinkle around his eyes as he blows out a breath and starts swinging his arm around for the next batter.
But in the next second, the temperatures seem to drop, and the air from Mateo’s nostrils comes out in a puff of white smoke, like a bull who’s just spotted a red flag.
And in my bones, I know the moment has come.
Jeremy Anderson, number six for the San Diego Sparks, starts to make his way to the plate, waving at the Monarchs fans who are clearly booing him.
A petty part of me wants to join in, but I know I have eyes, and probably cameras, on me now.
Shit. I probably should have stayed up in the suite for this part. It’s too late now.
I watch Anthony lift his catcher’s helmet and exchange some words with Jeremy. He keeps his fake smile in place as Anthony’s body language clearly screams to anyone watching that he does not fuck with this guy. Jeremy takes a moment to comb back his longish dirty-blond hair and puts his helmet into place. He grins from ear to ear as he searches the crowd intently.
Eventually, Anthony squats down and takes his position, bouncing his weight from his left foot to his right as he waits for Mateo’s call.
Mateo switches gloves and prepares to pitch with his right arm. Yet he takes his time when he moves the friendship bracelet from his right wrist to his left.
The action makes me release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
He’s got this. He’s got me.
After a single nod, Anthony settles into place, and Mateo pitches a fastball at Jeremy. But it went high, too high for it to have been an accident.
Jeremy dodges the fastball aimed at his face at the very last second, and the umpire calls out that it’s a ball. The first of the game.
The horde of fans is shocked. A collective low ooh rumbles through the crowd, like they just realized they’re experiencing much more than what they had bargained for. They all lean forward on the edge of their seats to see what Mateo does next.
Only then do I realize that I’ve done the same.
Charlie clears his throat next to me. “Isa, do me a favor.” His eyes never stop scanning the area around us as he speaks.
“Uh, sure.” My eyes flick between him and the field.
Mateo pitches again, this time the ball aimed right at Jeremy’s lower body. He hops back quickly, but it causes him to fall on one hand as the other clutches the bat.
“Ball!” the umpire yells once more.
I see Coach Weston walk out of the dugout and give Mateo a slow head shake.
“Listen.” Charlie grabs my attention once more. “If, for whatever reason, I believe there is a safety risk, I’m going to hold you by the upper arm and walk us out of here quickly. You got that?”
My brows furrow. “This place is crawling with security. Why would you think there’d be a safety risk?”
Charlie looks down at the field. “Call it a hunch.” His tense body is coiled like a snake that’s about to strike.
I look back down at the field and hold my breath when I realize Jeremy is staring right at me while standing a few yards away.
He then shouts, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Oh, hey, Izzy. Long time no see. Miss me?” He winks, then lifts his gloved batting hand to blow a kiss my way.
The action forces me back into my seat.
I feel a hand on my arm. “Now, Isa. Get ready to move before this thing gets even worse.”
I’m still having a hard time catching my breath when I realize what Charlie is trying to warn me about.
Because the threat was never on me.
But on Jeremy.
Because Mateo has abandoned his spot on the pitcher’s mound and is making his way straight toward my ex.